I Do Not Talk, I Am Just A Blogger.

I know I’ve been rather thin with the correspondence of late. I apologise – I just can’t make much sense of it all recently. Rusty.

Usually the news (like the politicians and us mere folk) takes the summer off.

Like…drink a few too many GnT’s, daily gesture angrily at meteorologists, realise you hate last season’s summer gear, take a staycation/eurotrip/both, read an absurd amount of books/sunday supplements and just generally take it easy.

The last riots in London were sparked by inaccurate forecasts by Michael Fish. Fortunately he escaped unharmed to misrepresent British weather for years to come.

not exactly the summer Lionel Richie peeters on about.

Provocative Imagery Ltd.

Riots…in England. Gaddafi vs. The World. THE WORST ECONOMIC CRISIS SINCE LIKE FOREVER. RupertMurdochGate. Hurricane Irene. Crazy Republican candidates (that’s pretty much a standard 4 year ordeal to be fair). Nick Clegg inadvertently becomes a smurf whilst in Glasgow. Even our real life superman Usain Bolt became very much mortal today. AND don’t even mention the Man Utd – Arsenal scoreline.

I Agree With Smurfette

What I’m saying is, this summer has been topsy turvy – like a Dan Brown novel – if Dan Brown was brought up by his foster parents Nick Hornby & Hunter S Thompson. It would be cutesy-nostalgic-bat-shit-crazy-investigative-thriller, that’s for sure.

I mean there is even a genre of music dedicated to girls dancing in their underwear. SERIOUSLY, pantystep? (It is quite good mind)

As I was just getting to grips with the in’s and out’s, do’s & don’t’s, ‘friendly’ leaders/bad dictators, double dip mint choc chip recession and so on – it all evades my grasp. I think my mission now is to gain that near-acquisition of what 2011 may or may not be.